Boxed
by diarrhetic.pen
Summary: It would only be a matter of time before the dam overflows. In the end, they would find that they only knew as much about her as she had let them. And she knows more about him than she lets on.
1. Chapter 1

_I own Skip Beat. As much as I own all the gold in Fort Knox._

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**Boxed**

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_Chapter 1_

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He'd been living in the apartment for years. Seven years to be exact. But he only had memories borne out of it from the last two. Only when he had met her had he found things in the apartment worth remembering.

He had known from the start that clearing out his home would be difficult. What was it that his manager said? Oh right. That the whole process would be, as most people say, "a walk down memory lane". _Walk?_ He scoffed at the notion. Run would be more like it. Running and hightailing it out of memory lane. Away from the assault of recollections that threatened to engulf and suffocate him. Whoever started this walk–down-memory-lane bull obviously knew shit about his life. _Enough_, he berated himself. He had far more important things that currently need his attention. Introspection could wait later.

He walked around the apartment, trying to see what he needed to bring with him. "Needed" being the operative word here. He would only take what he couldn't live without, the rest he would leave behind.

He started at the foyer. Looking at the coat hanger and umbrella stand, he decided that he would leave them for the next occupant. He spared a glance at the shoe shelf. Ah, he'd need to pack the leather shoes. They're gifts from the President, he reasoned to himself. It also didn't hurt that they were made of Italian leather and comfortably worn in. He crouched down to pick up the shoes, and as he did so, his eyes strayed to the bottom. Nestled in the most discreet part of the shelf was a pair of shocking pink slippers. Like their "owner", the slippers, however hard they tried not to attract attention by hiding in a corner, still unfailingly caught one's eye. A smile tugged at his lips when he remembered the time he had first asked her to wear them inside his home.

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She's here again. No doubt at the instigation of his meddling manager. His left hand kept twitching at his side, itching to do bodily harm. He had to remind himself that it would be a great inconvenience for him if his manager suddenly found himself unable to perform his duties, and with a long sigh, he opened his door a little wider to let his visitor in. She was still in her horrendous fluorescent pink overalls, so it probably wasn't a complete guess that she came straight from the agency. She gave him a sweet smile as she walked in, and as she passed by, he could swear he smelled strawberries from her hair. This puzzled him since she didn't strike him as someone who would be into things like fruity perfume or scented shampoos. But then again, the girl was crazy about cosmetics. _She must be escalating_, he thought. He gave his head a mental shake. Escalate? She's not some criminal with tendencies to _escalate_. He glanced at the girl who was at the moment looking very comfortable with a large knife in her hand. _Or maybe not._

She always looked in her element in _his_ kitchen. The only place he would concede she looked better in was in front of the camera. In front of an audience, with her multitude of fans looking on, as she, the actress, showcased her thespian talents. Nowhere else would she belong. He shook his head, this time not bothered that she would notice it. He was feeling that familiar pang again, which he had now honestly accepted as a recurring bout of possessiveness that he was prone to suffer from whenever she was concerned. It took him a certain amount of willpower to pry his eyes from her lovely form that was currently bent over the counter. An act of self-preservation which he had perfected over the time he'd known her. He instinctually cast his eyes on a place he deemed incapable of inciting temptation. The soles of her feet. That was when he noticed it. She was wearing the slippers he had put out for guests. Not that he actually had many.

He didn't really give it much thought, buying guest slippers. So he had just bought a pair in his size. It didn't matter to him that most people would find it large. Hell, it was even two sizes too large for his manager who was on the taller side of average. That being said (or thought, for that matter), he looked at her feet again. Her feet looked positively tiny in the slippers. She looked like a child playing dress-up with her father's things. _Urghhh_, the thought had sent a shot of bile up his throat. He's already having enough trouble as it is to make her see him as a man. The added thought of him being her father figure was going to make him sick. Seriously. This was not a matter to be taken lightly, he decided.

The following day, he bought a pair of fluffy girl's slippers amidst curious stares. One look at the pink (what possessed him to pick them in the same color as her overalls were beyond him) balls of cotton and all the women had already decided that they were gifts for a friend's daughter or his niece. They were _absolutely_ not going to think they were for a grown woman. The men, on the other hand, were thinking along the same lines, although somewhere along the way, jealousy pushed them off on an entirely different tangent. Surveying the actor from head to foot, and snickering at the _things_ in his hands, they had decided that he probably had a Lolita complex, or that worse, he was a pedophile.

Sensing the tension that was starting to build around him, the actor gave a long-suffering sigh. All he wanted to do now was pay for his purchases and make a quick dash to his car. The longer he stood around, the more people noticed him. Women were starting to inch closer like predatory animals. Never mind that he had something in his hands that would signify that he had a girlfriend (not that it was true, but nobody knew that). Sweat was starting to form on his brow as he silently willed the cashier to move faster. The last thing he wanted today was to be ogled like a freak on show at a carnival. And as if to answer his prayers, the till dinged to signal that his purchase has gone through, and with a small smile to the sales staff, he was out the door of the boutique in four strides.

When he arrived home, he stared morosely at the slippers. Now that he had time to think about it, he didn't know when, or if, she was going back to his apartment. He was never rash and this, this was the definition of impulsiveness. How was he going to tell her that he's even prepared for her visits even though they were, up until very recently, irregular and far between? However he looked at it, it would look like he was waiting for her to come. He sat down and smacked his forehead against his palm. If he didn't come up with a plausible story, he'd surely scare her away.

Contrary to his worries that she might not return, she was back the following week, on the same day, with the same story, and with the same horrendous uniform on. He let her in like he usually did, but this time, he hovered a few steps behind her as she took her shoes off. When she started reaching for the guest slippers, as she customarily did when she came around, he tapped her lightly on the shoulder. She turned around and raised her eyebrows quizzically at this disruption of routine. He then gestured to the pair of slippers that he had put on the top shelf, and after glancing at them, she again turned around to look at him, eyebrows still raised.

He had then launched into a detailed explanation of the dangers of working in the kitchen in oversized slippers. He even threw in a vivid imagery of tripping over one's feet and cracking one's skull on the marble countertop for good measure. After the lengthy lecture, he fought the urge to shake her to induce speech. She had been staring at him quietly during the whole time, and as the silence between them started to stretch, he could see her turning ghostly white, then slowly turning the color of her clothes, and finally looking like she was fit to burst. She was so red he wouldn't have been surprised if he saw steam coming out the top of her head. For a moment he even considered calling an ambulance as she was looking like she might pop a vein. When she did speak, he had to strain to hear her. He had asked her if she had said anything, while at the same time, taking a few steps towards her. Whether it was because she was asked to repeat herself or because of his growing proximity to her, she had shouted in a very loud and panicked voice how stupid she was not to bring things of her own and how she had once again brought trouble to her senior. He had held his palm flat on her forehead to stop her from prostrating herself on the floor before him. He then patiently told her that it was no trouble considering she was kind enough to cook for him, and that it was the least he could do. If anything, he was the one troubling the girl. Before she could issue a rebuttal, he had also explained that since it was only her and his manager that he gets as guests, everything had worked out okay. His manager is now the exclusive user of the guest slippers, and she gets to use the new ones.

_Smooth, real smooth._ He had one week to think of a story and this was the best he could do? He turned around and led the way to the kitchen, signaling the end of the conversation. He wasn't going to let her have time to dwell on the explanation he gave her which, even in his mind, sounded as lame as a three-legged donkey.

To his satisfaction, the girl had followed him wearing the said slippers and was trying to keep up with his hurried strides. Aware that she was probably thinking that she had once again offended him somehow, he slowed down his pace and fell into walking beside her. With a gentle smile, he had asked her if the pair had fit her properly. Returning with a shy smile of her own, she had softly whispered that they were perfect. He was tempted to respond with something along the lines of how _she_ was perfect, or something more cheesy. But he was reluctant to break the warm atmosphere that had now settled over them.

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_Reviews are water to a parched artistic soul._


	2. Chapter 2

_Like I said in my profile, this was just supposed to be a trial story. I only had a vague idea of where I wanted this to go and typed away. After 20 minutes of adrenaline-fueled writing, this is what you get. Hope it's enough to get people interested until I finish this. Flashbacks and present events will be intersped, so be very wary._

_Thanks for the reviews. For those asking why he's moving… well, I really haven't decided how to end this. I'm thinking of being evil just because I can, but let's see. _

_Special shout out to my first reviewer, Hakkyou no Tenshi. You've been very helpful, and don't worry, there is a plot. Somewhere._

_Standard disclaimers apply. Enjoy._

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**Boxed**

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Chapter 2

He smiled at the memory. As much as he would like to deny it, he genuinely wished that she still made her regular visits like she used to do, just before…

The sudden change in his countenance belied the indifferent air that he would put on whenever he was confronted by anyone regarding her. Quickly, he headed to another part of the house to divert himself from where his current train of thought was heading.

As he walked into the living room, the first thing that caught his attention was the massive vase that sat adorning the center of his coffee table. _Well, so much for distracting myself_, he thought, as he resigned himself to reminiscing about her once again.

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He knew he was staring, but he couldn't stop himself. Who knew collarbones were so sexy? To be perfectly frank, if he were asked which part of the female anatomy attracted him most, they wouldn't even register in his mind.

But this was something utterly and profoundly new to him. He had never felt such a strong urge to touch and feel something. _Great, just another thing to add to the growing list of fetishes that I had started to develop since knowing her._ She was making him become more and more of a weirdo as time went by.

He knew he wasn't the only one affected by her looks tonight. Even that flirtatious co-actor of theirs in the drama who never even looked at her twice was drooling like a teething baby.

The drama they were in was nominated for quite a number of television honors this year and so most of the cast and major crew were invited to the awards ceremony. It was the President's idea for everyone to go together and so he had lent that ridiculously long Hummer for their use. She had been the last to be picked up, and the moment she stepped out of the restaurant where she had been working and living in, everyone was simply stunned.

She had on a simple dark green tube dress that emphasized her long and lean frame, her hair in a casual bun with a single jeweled pin to put it in place. She didn't have any other accessory on her aside from the necklace she had made out of the gem he had put inside the rose he gave for her birthday.

Perhaps it was the way she walked gracefully towards their borrowed vehicle, with the skirt of her dress billowing around her. Or the sparkle in her eyes that were emphasized by the light make-up she wore. Or maybe it was the smile she was wearing that was more dazzling than any of the jewelry the other actresses had on put together.

Whatever it was, one thing was for sure. She looked elegant, or to be more precise, _regal_. She looked and acted as though she wore dresses like that everyday and had parties held for her whenever she wanted.

She looked confident and self-assured, but not conceited. No, never conceited.

_Was this one of her character inventions again?_, he wondered. If so, she had everyone fooled. The usual her would be abashed by all the attention she was getting, but tonight she looked unaffected by all the stares. But then again, while she was acutely perceptive of other people, she was infinitely and helplessly oblivious to most things concerning herself.

She was seated directly across him and from his vantage point, he could see the curve of her slender neck and the slight protrusion of her clavicle. He had to keep himself from reaching out and touching the exposed part of her neck and chest just to see if they were as smooth as they looked.

Feeling disgusted with himself with the way he was thinking, he glanced to his right where the men were staring unashamedly at her. God forbid, if they looked anywhere lower than her eyes, he was seriously going to commit murder. He had half a mind to just grab his dinner jacket and throw it over her.

But if he did that, she'd probably think he was just trying to keep her ugly face from burning everyone's eyes. Not that she was ugly. Far from it. In his eyes she couldn't be anything less than ethereal. _Ethereal? Where the heck did that come from?! _He was sure that had it been possible for anyone to read his thoughts, the triteness would surely cause them to gag.

On the other hand, the mere fact that he didn't even so much as put two seconds of thought on how she would react to something he would do was a testament on how far gone he was. He had taken to observing her every time the opportunity presented itself and he had memorized and analyzed every one of her nuances as though they were proposed solutions to the Goldbach conjecture.

_There I go again._ He was disappointed at how easy it was becoming for him to have his thoughts stray into random varying directions because of her.

At the exact moment he resolved that he was going to put his mind to something more productive, his eyes met hers. She gave a small uncertain smile, which quickly disappeared when he gave no indication to acknowledge her. Instead, he fixed his gaze unto the crystal-beaded curtains just above her head, intent on his method of avoidance. He had decided that even a fleeting glance towards her would push him dangerously close to the edge of his control.

The rest of the ride was thus spent in a tango of near-glances and hit-and-miss eye contacts. It was pathetic, he knew. But it was the only way he could keep any rein on his emotions.

Their arrival caused a commotion amongst the press and onlookers present at the venue. And he was quite sure that she was the subject of more than a few whispers and mutterings here and there. A lot of them wondered who she was, her current appearance being very different from the evil character she portrayed in the drama. And as she walked down the red carpet on the director's arm, the whispers only grew louder.

He had been waylaid by ambush interviews on the red carpet, so by the time he got inside, the only vacant chair on their table was beside her. He tried to act normally, and seeing that there was no way he could ignore her for the whole night, he simply gave her one of his customary smiles.

And as per usual, her way of reacting to him smiling was to cower and try to lower herself as much as possible on her chair. _Really, she shouldn't be making a habit of this._ Seeing as she was starting to slide underneath the table, his left hand shot out to grab her arm and pull her back up to a proper sitting position.

Anything he would have wanted to say to her died on his lips, as for the first time that night, he was near enough to have a clear look at her face. _Ah, her lips are so pink. _For some ridiculous reason, that Beatles song about strawberry fields had started playing in his head.

He didn't know how long he had been staring at her face, or how long he had been holding onto her arm. He vaguely registered the sounds of applause around him signaling the start of the program, which he took as his cue to let go of her arm. He then faced forward and hoped to all divinity that nobody noticed the lapse in his normally indifferent façade.

He could feel her gaze boring a hole at the side of his head. Probably wondering about what the hell just happened. And he wasn't about to offer any of his stupid reasons this time, because he was just as utterly confused as she was.

The incident was pushed into the back of their minds as the night wore on. Their drama had swept most of the major awards, losing only the Best Actress and Visual Effects categories. He himself had won the Best Actor award, which, not that he was bragging, did not actually come as a complete surprise. The only real competition he had in the category was a senior actor who had played a terminally ill patient. But then again, the clichéd nature of the role did more bad than good for the senior actor's chances.

The real surprise of the night was her winning the Newcomer of the Year Award. She had been up against a pop idol who was heavily favored to win, owing to that girl's extreme popularity.

She had been obviously stunned when her name was announced and she had then looked at him as if to confirm that she wasn't imagining everything. He merely gave a brief nod and a smile as he helped her up from her seat, her hands visibly shaking.

_You deserve it_, he had said to her. And after taking a deep breath, she calmly walked up the stage to accept her award.

With a clear voice that belied the nervousness that he was sure she was feeling, she had rattled off the names of the people that she had wanted to thank. She mentioned her bestfriend, the President, the talent supervisor of the agency, the directors and all the people she worked with, even the old couple she lived with, as the people who made her dreams possible. When she had mentioned his name especially, try as he might, he couldn't contain the smile that appeared on his face. After her speech, with the trophy clasped close to her heart, she had taken a short step back, and gave a very sincere and heartfelt bow of gratitude.

It was very much like her, he thought, to be humble and grounded at all times. The small act was certain to endear her to everyone who was watching, and he was sure that he did not imagine the almost deafening applause that followed.

When she straightened up, he could see that her eyes had misted over and that tears were threatening to fall. With a last shaky smile to the audience, she made her way back down to their table.

Apparently, she was still in shock over the recent developments and he had laughed out loud at the nonsensical things she had been spouting out. She had been muttering about wishing that the dream wouldn't end, all the while wringing her hands and the skirt of her dress. Seeing this, he had put his hand over hers to calm her down and to stop her from wrinkling her dress any further.

He had then told her not to worry and just enjoy the night. Another one like this might be long in coming, he had told her. With a grateful smile and a mouthed thank you, she sat up straighter and tried to focus back on the rest of the program. He didn't take his hand back. He wasn't sure whether she hadn't noticed, or that she had, but just didn't mind.

The rest of the night passed relatively quickly, and before they knew it, the ceremony was over. After a few quick chats with acquaintances, together with the rest of the cast, they made their way towards the exit. They were invited to an after-party, but she had declined, saying that she had work the following morning, and upon hearing this, he had volunteered to accompany her home. She had tried to talk him out of his decision, but he would have none of it. He had reasoned that he was tired as well, having been to a location shoot just before attending the ceremony.

The President, who had chosen that time to conveniently pop out and butt into the conversation dressed as a Renaissance king, had offered one of his cars once again, not the Hummer since it was going to be used by the rest of the cast for the after-party. She had tried to refuse, thinking that she would only be causing trouble, and saying that she could just call a cab.

The President had been horrified by her suggestion and immediately called his driver. Within seconds, a black Cadillac had rolled up and both of them had been stuffed into it.

The driver had handed him the keys, and with a sigh of resignation, he started the car. With their cast members waving at them and amidst final shouts of congratulations, he drove them out of the venue.

Honestly, if he hadn't been so frustrated at the blatant match-making efforts of the President, he would have found the scene hilarious. It was like they were newlyweds, with friends and family sending them off to their honeymoon.

Sensing the worsening of his mood, she had started to blabber on about how great the program was and how beautiful the bouquets of flowers that they handed out to the winners were. She went on to say something about finally having flowers to put on the vase that she had originally bought for the rose he gave months before.

After a while, she had turned quiet, which in turn started to worry him. Just when he was about to inquire on her thoughts, she suddenly shot up from her seat, exclaiming loudly, causing him to suddenly step on the brakes.

Realizing that she had almost caused an accident, she started apologizing profusely and made to prostate herself on the floor of the car. How she was going to accomplish this with her seatbelt on, he didn't want to know. So he held on to her shoulders and asked what was going on.

Sheepishly, she tried to explain that she remembered that there were no flower vases in his apartment and that she thought that they could go buy one in the 24-hour convenience store where she got hers before.

He looked at her blankly as if to say, _That's all_? And she just stared innocently back, oblivious to the disbelief etched on his face.

That was when he realized that his hands were still on her shoulders. Her _very_ _bare _shoulders. Drawing back his hands as if burnt, he sat back and resumed driving. He probably could manage to get them to their destination in one piece if he kept his mind from replaying the last few minutes.

When they got there, she had immediately opened her door, and for the hundredth time that night, he grabbed her arm to keep her from getting out. Confusedly, she turned to face him, and without a word, he took off his jacket and handed it to her. _The night air could be quite cold,_ he told her. And to forestall any further arguments from her, he got out of the car and went around to her side to open the door for her.

Once inside, she had gone straight towards the vase of her choice. With a sinking feeling, he realized that she had chosen something similar to the one she bought before. Great, he was going to have something akin to a cremation urn smack in the middle of his living room.

Dazedly, he followed her towards the counter. It was a good thing that there were very few people around at that time of the night. As it was, they were both celebrities, and dressed as they were, they were sure to attract unwanted attention.

While he paid for the horrendous vase, she was busy trying to determine the kind of flower arrangement that would suit his apartment. Muttering terms that obviously only made sense to her, he started leading the way back to the car. He suddenly stopped in his tracks when he heard her say that she had chosen that vase so that the two of them would match.

He had turned around to see her face, and once again, he wondered how this child-woman could make his emotions go haywire with the fewest of words and the simplest of gestures.

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_Will anyone's names ever be mentioned?_

_Will this story ever make sense?_

_Stay tuned for the upcoming chapters. I'm thinking of breaking the next part into two which will be posted in a few days._

_I'd like to hear from anyone who had bothered reading this. Yes, the story will end in the next two chapters and we will shed some light on a lot of questions surrounding the characters' present day situations._


	3. Chapter 3

_And so the promised days turned into weeks… And before the weeks turn into __*gasp* months, I have begrudgingly decided to finally put an end to this story._

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**Boxed **

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Chapter 3

He gave the horrid vase one last look before purposefully striding to the kitchen. There, from within one of the cabinets underneath the counter, he pulled out a couple of folded cardboard boxes. He had kept them after buying an espresso maker and a new home theater system thinking that he would have some use for them later. They were perfect now for what he had in mind.

It had to be done, he told himself. If he kept on going the way he was doing now, he would never finish within the current century.

Making his way back to the living room, he started wrapping the vase with some old newspapers he had grabbed from under the coffee table. Sparing a glance at the pages in his hands, he was suddenly sorely tempted to pause and leaf through them after seeing a picture of her on one of featured articles. Steeling his resolve, he instead hastened his movements and focused his mind on the task at hand. When he finished wrapping the vase, he crumpled the leftover papers and stuffed one of the boxes with them, after which he carefully placed the vase on top of the pile. He then walked back to foyer and picked the pink slippers up, before throwing them into the other box.

Almost mechanically, he went through every corner of his apartment, searching for things that he deemed to belong to her. The little fairy magnet that she had stuck to the fridge for her notes, the frilly apron that she had brought the last time she cooked for him, the bottle of hand soap she left on the bathroom sink, all of it had gone into the boxes.

He was sure he would be able to finish this mission that he had undertook, until he came to the last room of his home. He hesitated, before slowly opening the door to the guest room.

In all aspects, this had been hers. She had stayed over more times than most people would think appropriate for a single lady of her age should stay in an unrelated man's house. It seemed that it never occurred to her that people might talk, and he felt compelled to point this out to her. But still, he never did so. His desire to have her by his side had won over. Always.

Before her, this room had been rarely used. Only when his manager had absolutely no other choice but to do so was the bed slept in. The room had been impersonal, generic and devoid of any intimate effects.

But it seemed as though the room had taken a life of its own from the moment she first stayed in it. Granted, it was related to her work as his substitute manager then, but still, he felt as though something monumental had happened after she had slept there, even though at the time, he wasn't aware of his growing feelings for her.

What he expected to be a one-off thing had happened a few more times after. He didn't know when it started that he needed less and less of a serious reason to ask her to stay, or when she had started to refuse less. The last time she had spent the night there, they had watched a film into the wee hours of the morning, although admittedly, this was under the pretense that she could use one of the characters in the movie as a point of reference in an upcoming role of hers.

He walked over to the closet. Inside was a bath towel with her initials, a pair of pajamas, a few sets of clothes and a toiletry bag. Since she sometimes unexpectedly showed up, he had suggested that she keep a change of clothes at his place. His statement had been followed by an awkward silence, and as per usual, she had taken his words in the wrong context and stammered and offered her apologies for being a huge burden.

But despite her protests and her statements to the contrary, she had followed his advice. She brought in some of her things in case she had to spend an extended amount of time in his home, and gradually, the place started filling up with her belongings.

It had happened so slowly and so naturally that neither of them noticed it, and by the time somebody brought their attention to the fact, it was either too late or they both thought that it wasn't such a big deal anymore.

It was courtesy of his manager that the matter was brought up at all. He had told him that he needed to drop by the office she shared with her bestfriend so that he could give the drama notes she left at his house the night before. And while they were there, the idiot just had to comment that they were like a married couple, but without the sex.

It was very unlike his manager to be so crude and vulgar that in his shock, he had whipped his head so fast to turn and look at him that he felt like he must have torn a ligament. And by doing so, he had felt rather than seen the sharp metal that whizzed by and embedded itself in the back wall, narrowly missing his manager's ear. They had slowly looked back at the source, who had apologized and explained that the croissant she was slicing had been too tough that the bread knife had slipped through her fingers, all the while talking in the most insincere and unapologetic voice he had ever heard.

It was times like these that he saw the similarity between the two friends. While the long-haired brunette was normally callous and aloof to people, she was very possessive of the few that she had allowed into her circle of affection. And at the center of that circle was _her_. And as much as he would like to deny it, if he was in the same position, he would have done the same, if not more.

It was a good thing then, he decided, that the object of their musings was currently on the phone talking to her supervisor and had not heard a single teasing word that his manager had uttered. He couldn't imagine what her reaction would have been if she had. Or maybe he could. She wouldn't be angry, he was sure. Neither would she be happy about it. She'd probably be confused and uncomfortable, which is how she always became when confronted with ideas she couldn't wrap her head around, like _love_. Things would begin to be awkward between them and she'd avoid him at all costs, washing all the hard-earned progress in their "relationship" down the drain. And this would have probably set him on edge and would have made him murder his manager on the spot. If her friend doesn't get to him first.

As if on cue, she had turned around at that very moment and upon spotting him, a beatific smile appeared on her face. With one hand still on the phone, she gave a small wave with her free one and gestured to the three people on the other side of the room that she wouldn't be much longer.

He had smiled to her in return and thought to himself that the two of them had come a long way from the butting of heads on their first meeting to—

The incessant ringing of his mobile interrupted his thoughts. He fished the thing out of his pocket and looked at the screen. His manager was calling. His thoughts must have called out to the devil.

He didn't bother answering the call. He knew what he'd be saying anyway. His ride must be on its way to pick him up and drive him to the airport, so he hastened his packing, and made sure that there wouldn't be any more distractions.

Afterwards, he took one last look around his apartment to see if he had forgotten anything. He felt a sense of melancholy when he realized that this was probably the last time he'd ever be there. Most of his belongings were still intact so he somehow thought that he wouldn't feel any different from when he would leave for location shoots, but it just wasn't the case. He managed a short chuckle when he realized why he felt so somber. He had expected the place to look bare and empty without her things, but instead, it just looked different. Like it belonged to someone else, and that his memories and time there had been spent elsewhere.

_But it didn't matter now_, he thought as he prepared to leave. He was finally coming home to her.

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_One chapter to go…_

_This one's kind of shorter than the previous ones because this is a build-up to all the things that would happen on the next (and final) chapter. Actual storytelling (plot-wise) within the current timeline would be on the final chapter which would hopefully tie up all loose ends and answer everyone's questions._

_I'm begging for reviews here. Yes, I've finally hit rock-bottom._

_Oh, and Skip Beat still isn't mine. How many times do I have to say it?_


	4. Chapter 4

_I recommend listening to Keri Noble's "Falling" while reading this._

_No actual connection between the song and story. I just like it. Don't ask._

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**Boxed**

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Chapter 4

_He was finally coming home to her._

He never imagined these words could hold so much power over him. On second thought, hindsight is always 20/20 and regret is so much a part of the package.

_Almost a whole year had passed since everything suddenly changed in his life._

With the success of his latest villain protagonist character, he managed to snag a small but pivotal role in an overseas production. Feeling that he was ready to test the waters now, and after much discussion with the President, he decided to accept. It would mean three months of shooting abroad, which in turn meant three months away from her. In the end, he had to weigh his options, and between an opportunity for advancement in his career, or another pitiful step in their so-called "relationship", he chose the former.

It wasn't like they wouldn't be in touch anyways. This was the 21st century, for crying out loud. He could call her, send her text messages, or e-mail her, or if those weren't possible, he could always go old school and send letters through the postal service.

No matter how he looked at it, this was too good an opportunity to pass up. Whether or not the movie made money, he could use it as a stepping-stone to get noticed abroad.

Once everything had been arranged and all the details ironed out, he decided to tell her personally. He had tried telling her earlier, but he seemed to have some difficulty trying to reach her. He knew this was probably because she was becoming more and more swamped with work these days, and he sincerely though it was a good thing because it meant that she was getting noticed more.

But for a moment, he thought it strange that she wasn't even trying to see him. He dismissed the thought as quickly as it came. Close as they were right now, he couldn't afford to delude himself into thinking that she would personally try to contact him about anything outside of work, and currently, they weren't even working on anything together.

In the end, he didn't find her no matter how hard he looked. After calling her on her mobile a few times, tired of not getting any positive results from his efforts, he decided to go to the studio where they did the shoots for her TV series. But by the time he arrived, one of the staff informed him that she had already rushed off to another shoot. He asked around but nobody knew where her next place of work was, so, after much hesitation, he called her best friend. If anybody knew, it would be her.

While the idea for the call was for him to ask her where her friend was, the outcome was the exact opposite. He felt like a suspect volunteering for an interrogation. There were no hellos, or any sort of greeting for that matter. She went straight from "Why are you calling?" to "Is she missing?" back to "Then, why are you calling?"

He had tried to explain that he needed to talk to her, and that she wasn't answering his calls. And that while he didn't think she was missing, he just couldn't get hold of her.

Without missing a heartbeat, the pretty brunette answered that she didn't know herself, and that even if she did, it wasn't her place to say.

He didn't have time to ponder the strange answer as she ended the call, and a light buzzing filled his ears before the line went dead.

Wondering where she could be at that moment, he walked distractedly towards his parked car. He was surprised when he felt someone touch his arm, and even more so when he saw who it was. She was shifting from one foot to the other, with that uncertain smile of hers plastered on her face. She reminded him of a jumpy deer he had caught sight of while playing in the forest while he was young. This brought out a slight chuckle from him, which seemed to calm her a little somewhat.

After a few minutes of just staring at each other, they ended up trying simultaneously to start a conversation. Which started a short argument as to who should talk first. Seeing as she was determined to let him start, and knowing that the argument wouldn't end otherwise, he acquiesced and began by asking where she'd been and why she hadn't been picking up his calls.

Ignoring the first question, she exclaimed loudly (talking mostly to herself) that she had put the phone on silent mode while shooting and had forgotten to change it back. _How typical of her_, he thought amusedly, all traces of annoyance and frustration forgotten.

With a gentle smile, he asked her if she's had dinner, and when she answered in the negative, he suggested eating together as he had something important to tell her. When she didn't reply immediately, he went on to assure her that it wasn't going to be anywhere fancy, he just wanted to go someplace where they could talk properly. After a few nervous minutes where she didn't make a single sound, she signaled her assent with a small nod.

They went to a small quaint café just a stone's throw away from the studio. There were quite a few people already inside, but he surprised himself by not even trying to act incognito. He didn't care at that moment if both of them were recognized and seen dining together alone.

He waited until they were served before he told her about his plan to work on a movie outside the country. He informed her that she was the first person to know about it that wasn't involved in the project, and that what he shared to her should be kept under wraps until the official announcement. He then told her he'd be away for a quarter of a year, but he'd make sure to give her his contact details so they could keep in touch.

He had imagined that she would take this like how she normally receives impersonal news, or maybe even with indifference. But he was taken aback by the sudden anxious expression that showed on her face. He felt like she had something to say, but after waiting for a few moments, it became apparent that she wasn't going to tell him.

He prodded her but she would just say that it wasn't anything important, and with a slightly strained smile, she told him how happy she was for him. This was an opportunity every actor dreamed of, she said.

He knew she was right, but somehow, there was a nagging feeling that not all of what she said was necessarily true.

They were interrupted by the arrival of their orders, and the rest of the evening was spent with light chitchat about their current projects. As per usual, after finishing their meal, he insisted on driving her home, to which she uncharacteristically didn't protest.

They enjoyed the ride home in relative silence, and he would occasionally glance at her to check if she was feeling unwell. She had been strange throughout dinner and he was worried that she might be coming down with something. Looking at her then, it seemed she was okay, if a bit distracted. She looked deep in thought, and knowing her, unless she wanted to talk about it, he would never be able to pry anything out of her.

It didn't seem like she was having problems at work, or else, he would have found out from the agency supervisor or from his own manager that had now completely morphed into her obsessed fanboy. If it were about anything else, he was quite sure she could deal with it herself. She was a strong woman, and as much as he hated to admit it, he was in no position to meddle in her personal affairs. Which was something he wanted to change. _Maybe someday._

As they were saying their farewells, he thought he saw something akin to deep sadness fleeting through her eyes. But it came and went so fast that he was convinced that his eyes were just deceiving him. Just to make sure, he observed her as she waved goodbye from the door, and all he could see was the sincerity of her smile. Nothing was amiss.

Once the project was made public, he was inundated with interviews and television appearances. He didn't have time to even call her since their dinner, and on the date of his departure, he received an apologetic message from her saying she couldn't get off work to say goodbye. She wished for his success, but most of all his safety.

The short message had been enough to make him smile and tide him through all the ruckus his fans were making at the airport. Once the plane was in the air, he regarded the view from his window seat. It would be quite a while before he sees again the country he's called home for the last few years.

Clearing his mind of any further depressing thoughts, he promised himself that when they land, he would put his all into the movie project. He wasn't going to be distracted by _anything_.

So he was surprised when he received a call from her scary friend a week after leaving. Again, she didn't bother with any civilities, as she informed him that she had something important to say. But it wasn't her words that made his heart beat erratically. It was the desperation in her voice that told him something was definitely wrong.

* * *

_I guess apologies are in order. I did say that I've finished writing this story and that I would update in a short while. But I didn't realize just how long I actually made the supposedly last chapter. And splitting it into two or three chapters was surprisingly hard work._

_So from now on, no more promises. I will post when I post. The author is now in dictator mode._

_And I still don't own Skip Beat. Yada yada yada._


	5. Chapter 5

**Boxed**

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_Chapter 5_

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Half of what she was saying went over his head, but when she said that he had to stop her friend from making a mistake, he just had to keep her from blabbering incomprehensibly. He asked her to calm down and tell him exactly what was going on.

She took a deep breath and related her story with a shaky voice. She had been worried about her friend's peculiar behavior a few weeks before so she had taken to observing her and following her every movement whenever she could, which wasn't often as both of their schedules conflicted with each other most of the time.

Based on her observations, aside from the few times she caught her friend spacing out, she couldn't find anything amiss. So she had waited patiently for the moment the other girl would open up, and she had to admit there were many times that she literally had to bite her tongue. But all her efforts were in vain.

So she kept watch over her friend. Until the day she saw her go into the President's office looking like she had made a life-altering decision. Immediately, alarm bells started to ring inside her head, but try as she might, she couldn't listen in on their conversation.

They were still inside when she was summoned to work. She hesitated, but she had responsibilities as well. She would just force it out of her later, she had thought.

But that was two days ago, she tells him. She tried calling her but she wouldn't pick up. She even went to the place she stayed in, but the old couple said the short-haired girl was on a location shoot, something she knew wasn't true. But it seemed the couple wasn't aware of her friend's little lie, so she didn't say anything.

She was running out of options, so reluctantly, she went to the last person she wanted to ask. She had never personally met the jerk, and it was quite hard finding a chance to talk to him. But if she wanted something, she made sure to get it.

So she found herself crawling into the bushes behind a studio lot and climbing up the window of the idiot's dressing room. It annoyed her that she had to do something so degrading, but she knew she wouldn't do this for anyone else aside from her only friend.

He was sitting quietly at the dresser, staring into the mirror when she swung herself up from outside. He was surprised and mistook her for one of his avid fans, something that she took offense at.

Ignoring the intense disgust for the narcissistic singer in front of her, she introduced herself and asked, no, _d__emanded_, that he tell her where her friend was. At this, the man raised his eyebrows and pointed out the fact that since she was told nothing, hence the question regarding this alleged "friendship" she had with his fiancé.

At the mention of the word "fiancé", the actor, who up until this point remained silent, felt like the floor had just disappeared beneath him.

Oblivious to the intense emotions that the man on the other line was going through, the brunette carried on with her story. According to the singer, his parents and the girl's mother had remained in contact all those years since she had been brought into his household. And to solve the problem regarding the running of his family's inn, both their parents have decided to arrange for their marriage. His parents have agreed to let him continue his singing career as long as he marries her and she runs the inn.

While the self-proclaimed idol admitted that he has no idea why she agreed to it as well, he was happy with the arrangement as long as the adults kept their end of the bargain and that the marriage would be kept secret until he finishes his international tour.

Naturally, the dark-haired actress accused him of lying and demanded once again to know the whereabouts of her friend to confirm all of these herself. It was at that exact moment that the door opened, and the subject of all the current chaos came in.

She was surprised to see her friend there, but after a moment's hesitation, she asked the man to leave them alone for a while.

Once the idiot singer had left, she calmly sat down and cast sorrowful eyes at her tenacious friend. The mere fact that she was there, she probably knew most of the story anyway, she had said. But she still proceeded to narrate everything, including the fact that she had already handed in her notice of resignation from the agency. The only thing left for her friend to ask her was "Why?". _Why had she agreed to this farce? Why didn't she tell her?_

The other girl didn't answer, but instead gave her a small rueful smile, as if saying that she couldn't tell her anymore than she already had. At this the long-haired girl walked towards her, intending to shake her to normalcy. But in the face of that smile that never wavered, she realized that she had no power to change anything.

At this, the normally distant and cold woman, broke down in tears. She could think of nobody who could change her friend's mind now. Nobody except _him_.

She begged him to put a stop to all the unpleasant things that were happening. She couldn't just let her friend make such a big mistake. He told her in a quiet voice that there was never any need to beg. He would do everything he could to take her back.

He made arrangements then and there to fly back home. Seeing the storm brewing in his eyes, his manager decided not to ask.

He was rushing on his way to the airport when he received another call. Surprised, he fumbled a little before answering his phone. He gave a quick glance at the screen but the number was unfamiliar.

There were a few heartbeats of silence after he said hello before the caller made herself known.

He had suspected it was her before she even uttered a word. But knowing who it was didn't even do anything to calm his frazzled nerves. If anything, it made him more skittish, as if he was being marched to the gallows.

She kept stuttering and hesitating with her words, as if she was having problems vocalizing her thoughts. After a few unsuccessful attempts, she paused briefly, probably in an effort to collect herself.

He could hear her on the other side take a few calming breaths to steady herself. Under normal circumstances, he would have found this habit of hers amusing.

In a hurried voice, she uttered a single short concise sentence. He thought he must have heard wrong so he asked her to repeat herself. In a quiet voice, almost deliberate in its slowness, she told him she was getting married.

He stopped by the side of the road. His mind was in a total mess and if he kept on going, he knew he was going to end up in an accident.

She didn't tell him anything he didn't already know, but hearing her say it herself added gravity to the words. She tried desperately to mask the uncomfortable silence that followed by saying that he probably didn't need to listen to something as trivial as this and that she should just let him get on with more important things.

He cut her off before she had a chance to say anything that was further from the truth. _Trivial?_ Yes it was. And he told her so himself. Her getting married was so trivial that she shouldn't even bother going through with it. There wasn't any reason for her to do something that did not even remotely make any sense.

He tried to reason with her. Tried to make her see she was making a mistake. A huge mistake that she probably – no, _certainly_ — would regret. With this kind of decision, there was no going back.

She would never regret it, she says, and he could hear the determination in her voice. She had thought about this at length and she had come to the decision that this was best for everyone.

At this, he finally lost it. She wasn't in a position to decide what was best for everyone. Especially, what was best for him. He was saying harsh words, he knew, but if it meant it would rouse her from this insanity, he was willing to become the villain.

But he found that no amount of shouting, no amount of cruelty could sway her from her choice. He slammed his free hand against the steering wheel in exasperation. Okay, if this is how she wanted it, at least she could wait until they've talked face-to-face. He wasn't giving up that easily. She only had to sit tight and wait for a few hours until he arrives.

There was no need for him to come back, she said. That quiet voice again. He was getting confused now. Does this mean she's changed her mind? If all it took was threatening her with his ditching work and coming home, why hadn't her friend thought of this before? Somehow, in the back of his mind, he doubted whether things were as simple as he thought.

Nevertheless, he was on his way back. He wasn't taking any chances, not that he thought she was a liar, but he believed that the other party would hardly play fair. And he told her so himself.

There's no need for him to hurry back, she continued to say as if he hadn't said anything in edgewise. The civil ceremony would be in a few hours. Her voice was now almost nothing more than a whisper.

He sat up straighter, shocked. Suddenly nothing made sense anymore. He felt dizzy, nauseous. He hadn't realized that he'd been holding his breath, the lack of oxygen making the interior of his rented car spin like a top. With a conscious effort, he reminded himself to breathe in and out.

The prick had wanted a guarantee that she would follow through. Her words were now coming out in a rush, as if she was afraid that if she stopped, she wouldn't be able to finish her explanation.

After her best friend's visit, he had made covert preparations. Numerous phone calls, meetings with people unaccompanied by his manager. Every time she inquired, the only answer she got was that he was taking _extra precautions_, which she mistakenly took to mean as something relating to his upcoming tour.

She hadn't been allowed out of the apartment she now shared with her former childhood friend. Her things had been packed and sent in from the old couple's place and she had no idea what they've been told about her current situation.

When she saw him that morning, he looked like the cat who ate the canary. She became irritated and challenged him to say whatever he looked like he wanted to say. With a smirk, he had bluntly told her that he had arranged for them to have a civil ceremony that afternoon. The church wedding would come after he's finished with his series of international concerts. They could just pretend to get engaged after he comes back and have a very lavish wedding to celebrate what he thought would be the sure fire success of his tour.

She hesitated a little before repeating that the ceremony was to take place that day, or, to be more precise, in a couple of hours. Which is why there is no need for him to board a plane and leave his work hanging. Nothing short of astral projection could get him back to her side of the world in time, she remarked jokingly, desperately trying to add some levity to the situation.

Hearing nothing but silence from his side, she plowed on. She did not want to cause him any trouble. She had called, not because she had wanted him to do anything, but because she just wanted to say goodbye. At this, her voice cracked. He could hear the stifled sobs in her voice but he felt as though his brain was floating on murk. He was finally roused from his numbness upon hearing a familiar male voice in the background calling her.

She had to go, she says. A slight pause. Her last words to him had been _Don't worry. I'll be okay_. Words that he felt were said more to assure herself than him. And then he heard a soft click. The call had ended.

He realized belatedly that though she said she had called to say her farewells, she didn't actually manage to say goodbye. And neither did he.

He had wanted to say something and everything all at once. And ended up saying nothing.

As he rested his head back and pondered on what he should do next, the futility of the solutions he came up with and the helplessness he felt began to overwhelm him. The greatest actor of his generation felt himself surrendering to emotions that were finally his own. And for the first time in his life, by that unremarkable roadside, on that fateful day, overcome by the intangible loss, he closed his eyes and let the tears fall.

* * *

_Is it just me or is this turning into crap? Okay, maybe I'm stalling but really, give me some slack here. I've got two conflicting endings. But eitherway, whoever reads them would probably love me as much as I loved Michelle Rodriguez in Lost. Which is like, never._

_I'm trying to write another more light-hearted story, but everything just seems so… flat. I better stick to hanging out in the dark side._

_Review if you still remember me and appreciate my existence._


	6. Chapter 6

**Boxed**

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_Chapter 6_

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_He was finally coming home to her._

He felt bile rising up his throat at the thought. The man he hated and envied at the same time was coming home to _her_.

The project abroad had only been for a few months, but the handsome actor had stayed on long after that. He managed to find work there, modeling mostly, anything just to keep himself busy. He was too afraid, too much of a coward, to return home. Returning home would mean having to face the reality that she was now someone else's.

He had harbored no illusions that the two of them would end up together. As a matter of fact, he had readied himself for the eventual heartbreak. But what he hadn't been prepared for was the possibility that the decision would not be made by her. That choice was snatched away from the woman he loved. And in turn from him. Fully and cruelly.

So those few months that he planned to be away, those few months that he had talked to her about, turned into a year. But he hadn't been able to put off going home any longer. He had things that needed attending to personally. His manager and the agency president had been considerate enough to allow him that time away before they reminded him of his responsibilities. They didn't mention her, and more importantly his return home was going to be short and discreet.

But by some infinite cosmic joke, the man he loathed with all his being was suddenly returning home from his international tour as well. His manager had been horrified and tried to reschedule his flights and meetings, but was only successful in cutting down his stay by a couple of days. His departing flight would be on the same day that the younger singer was arriving. They would be missing each other by just mere hours. At least there was no way they'd bump into each other accidentally. He honestly didn't know how he'd react if they did.

The other man's tour had been a success, and during his absence from the local scene, rumors had been swirling about the singer's lovelife. The idiot had purposefully made it worse by saying he had an important announcement to make when he came home.

And that was today. The whole country was abuzz with excitement, the air rife with anticipation. The actor tuned everything out. He didn't want to be here for the announcement. He already knew what it was. The edict from the self-proclaimed king. Hearing it would make things painfully real.

The car stopped in front of the automated doors of the airport. He stepped out and pulled his cap low on his forehead. He was leaving the country again. But unlike the last time, there were no onlookers. No admirers clamoring for his attention. No crowd vying for the chance to be able to say goodbye.

He strode toward the departure area. And promptly stopped.

His first thought was that she was at the wrong part of the airport. Arrivals were at the opposite wing. And she was too early.

Her hair had grown past her slender shoulders. And back to its natural black. Nobody seemed to recognize her. Except him.

Their gazes met and he finally realized that she'd been waiting for him. As she slowly walked towards him, he started to feel that familiar twisting ache within his chest. His ribcage felt painfully small. Shrinking with every step she took.

The young woman stopped in front of him. She looked just as beautiful as he remembered. She opened her mouth to speak, but before she could get any sound out, he crushed her to him, his lips on hers. The kiss was desperate and full of pent-up longing. She tried to push him away but her efforts seemed like nothing as he only tightened his arms around her waist and neck.

He only stopped when she ceased resisting. But only to stare into her eyes. Eyes that surprisingly mirrored the sadness he felt. He rested his forehead against hers, arms still around her shaking figure. _Don't_, he had begged her. He saw it in her eyes. She had come to say goodbye. To finally do as she had promised during that fateful phone call a year ago. But he couldn't let her. He could pretend that this was a long drawn out nightmare. A horrible movie that refused to just end. As long as she didn't say the words, his delusions wouldn't stop. He could continue living as if the past year hadn't happened.

He kissed her again, and this time, she had kissed him back. It felt like a mere second before she softly pushed him away and pulled out of his embrace. She slowly shook her head, eyes shining with unshed tears. He tried to grab her hands but the sight of the gold ring on her left hand stopped him cold. The marriage maybe a sham, but she would undoubtedly honor her vows. That was just her way.

He looked at her again, and he knew it would be the last time. The pain threatened to tear him apart into tiny innumerable pieces.

They were two of the best actors in the country, but at that moment, neither could disguise what they felt. He wanted to laugh hysterically at the cruel irony.

He took a few steps backward, as if the physical distance he was creating between the two of them could help. It didn't.

So he forced one foot in front of the other. His pace becoming quicker with each step. He walked towards her, walked past her, and continued until he was right before the gate. If he stopped moving, he would never have the courage to leave her. Thoughts of stealing her away danced at the corners of his mind. But when he looked back, she was gone.

He supposed this was her answer then. As expected, she was steadfastly holding on to her decision. That damned decision that she was forced to make. He still didn't know why, but that didn't matter anymore.

He thought that he should be able to deal with this better than the first time. After all, this shouldn't hurt more than it did then. But it did. Exponentially.

He knew of only one way to cope. He would keep his feelings and memories of her the way he had kept all those things of hers in his apartment. Carefully tucked and sealed away.

Boxed.

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_Epilogue coming up._


	7. Chapter 7

**Boxed**

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_Epilogue_

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Part 1

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Somehow, in the back of his mind, he always knew he'd come back. Granted, it had taken him a long time to get over, _no_, get _used to_ the idea that he could never have the one thing he had wished for with all his heart, but he had always known that he couldn't really stay away from the place he had once called home.

Even so, eight years was a long time. Long enough for most things to change. He realized this as he glanced around what used to be the agency's large parking lot. Instead, it was now a vast garden, complete with fountains and stone walkways. Parking had been moved underground to make way for the project, probably a product of one of the President's whims.

Things change, but ultimately remain the same. Gone were the familiar faces, but in their place he saw various people with the same expressions he himself wore not too long ago. He could read their thoughts as surely as though they had spoken them. _Hope. Passion. Ambition._ The faces may change, but the reasons for being there never do.

A few years ago, he had been like them, ready to bargain with the devil for a chance to achieve his dreams. He had only realized his foolishness when he'd found something far more important. And far more difficult to attain.

In the end, he got what he originally desired. A successful career. An opportunity to prove his worth. A name for himself. But only when he didn't want it all anymore.

Some wise person once said that you could never really realize how important something is until you've lost it. But then again, how can this apply to him? She had never even been his.

Eight winters have passed since he last caught sight of the familiar surroundings. Eight summers since he last saw her. He'd never once returned since that fateful day in the airport. And since then, not once had the two of them exchanged words again.

He'd chosen to stay away from anything connected to her. Tried to buffer himself from the pain. But then again, once in a while, he'd give in to his weakness and search for any news on her. Just to be sure she was doing okay.

He'd thought that after the initial furor regarding her marriage with that singer had died down, she'd go back to the work she had so loved. But he'd been wrong.

She had decided to run her in-laws' traditional inn and settle into a relatively normal life away from the spotlight. A lot of people had gone and tried to get her interested in their projects, but she turned them all down. She didn't state her reasons, just politely said no.

A part of him wished that this wasn't the case and that there was a chance that he could run into her at some social gathering, but another part of him, a larger one, was afraid of the pain it would bring.

News about her became harder to come by as the years passed. Oh, that rocker idiot was still so very famous, but he'd been tightlipped about his private life ever since their marriage announcement. He'd only ever heard the singer talk once during an interview, when he had been asked whether he had any plans of starring in a movie or drama. He had answered that he would never go into acting, because that was his wife's territory, looking very serious as he did so. He did not elaborate any further, and no amount of prodding from the hosts could elicit any sort of reaction from him.

Whether this was an agreement between the couple, or whether it was the younger man's conscious decision, he couldn't tell. If it was the latter, then surely this was an unbelievable show of maturity from the man who once ditched her because he thought she was too plain to stand beside him.

But then again, while he hadn't been able to see her, it had been virtually impossible to avoid seeing or hearing of her husband. And try as he might, he could not deny the fact that the other man had changed over the years. The cocky arrogance of youth was mostly gone, replaced by a sense of quiet groundedness. While still insufficient to be called modest, his words now carried a sense of awe and pride at what he had achieved, rather than the insincere gratitude he used to throw at his admirers before.

And his songs. While still mostly rock and upbeat, once in a while, he would come out with a melody so different from the others, whose words spoke directly from his soul. Lyrics that couldn't have been conceived merely by a creative mind. Something that evoked emotion even from the hardest of hearts. A product of musical genius and an earnest soul that seemed to desperately wish to be heard.

Which brought the handsome actor back to the reason of his return. One of his songs. Of that man. That cunning person who had stolen the one person he thought he couldn't live without.

His manager had been hesitant to tell him that the song had been chosen as part of the soundtrack for his next movie. The director had heard it while surfing online and had been enchanted by the melody. He had the song translated and was thrilled to find that it fit perfectly with how he wanted one of the flashback scenes to play out. So the director wasted no time in getting into contact with the musician and his agents to request for an English version to be sung just for the film.

The singer had but one request before he agreed to do the song. That the lead actor of the film be present when the finished song is first played for the director and producers to hear.

He'd suspected then that it was a mere attempt to rub salt on old wounds, but the rational part of him argued that if this was so, then the younger man would have done it much earlier, when the pain was still fresh.

So here he was. Just landed from a twelve-hour flight, and feeling like his heart was beating in his stomach. Whether it was from jetlag or from the undeniable dread of the impending meeting, he didn't care to know.

He hadn't realized how long he had been standing and staring outside the building until he felt a slight vibration in his jeans pocket. He fished his phone out and read the message from his manager. _The paperwork's mostly done. Time to head up._

He walked through the once-familiar glass double doors amidst curious stares from passers by. He discreetly glanced at his reflection on the highly polished mirror behind the reception desk, trying to make sure that he was still incognito. He adjusted the baseball cap he was wearing to hide as much of his face and pulled the hood of his jacket lower over it. Satisfied that while most people may still pay him a cursory glance, these, and the dark glasses he was wearing, would keep anybody from recognizing who he really was, he strode over to where the President's trusted aide was waiting.

Nodding to each other in greeting, they rode the lift in silence to where the contract discussions were just wrapping up. Noting his arrival, the director stood up and started to introduce the musician to the actor, assuming that neither of them knew each other.

The President, who was there as his local agent, cut the aging director off, under the guise of being overly excited to hear the finished product. Successfully distracted, the director clapped his hands in agreement and turned towards the singer who motioned to his manager with a lazy wave of his hand. Moments later, the soft mournful melody of guitar strings being slowly strummed filled the room.

The actor had to admit that what few bars he'd heard was enough to convince everyone, including himself, that it was a perfect fit for the planned scene. He glanced towards the director and made a single almost imperceptible nod to signal his approval and made ready to tune out the rest of the song. He did not need to listen to the rest of the lyrics that described a love that wasn't destined to be realized.

Until he heard the second voice that joined the singer's. The voice was slightly deeper than he remembered, but it still held the familiar lilt that haunted him for eight long years.

Not bothering to hide his surprise, he quickly turned his head to lock gazes with the musician across the table. The younger man stared straight back, as if daring him to say something, _anything_, about what he'd just heard.

The handsome actor was the first to break eye contact, mumbling a muted apology to all present before hurriedly standing up, the sound of the legs of his chair scraping against the polished floor contrasting sharply with the beautiful melody still playing within the confines of the room.

_Love means not having to speak the words. And not ever needing to hear them._

Her words rang loudly in his ears as he exited, her melodious voice singing him out.

He felt like he was drowning. It was too much. Just too much.

He stood outside the heavy doors, uncertain of where to go. But he knew he could not stay in that place, where even now he could hear the faint but undeniable strains of the music he was trying to escape from. So he willed himself, one foot in front of the other. Anywhere was better than there.

Before he knew it, his aimless wandering brought him in front of a nondescript door, which in the not-so-distant past used to be plastered with a shocking neon pink sign. It seems that even though he tried so hard to deny it, he still subconsciously sought her out.

He turned the knob slowly, hoping vainly that he would be greeted with her warm smile, but knowing the pain of wishing for the impossible.

He hadn't counted on the fact that the fates seem to really have it in for the two of them.

* * *

_First of a two-part epilogue. _


End file.
